Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 171288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
This doesn’t seem right—I must not have added enough water, she thought, staring at the mess in dismay. Also, hadn’t she forgotten one of the ingredients? She thought hard and snapped her fingers.
“Tinga seeds—that’s what she said. I have to add them to the dough.”
She went back for another bucket of water and while she was at the sink, she asked another woman who was in line behind her where the seeds were kept.
The woman gave her a strange look but pointed to a small barrel located beside the sink. There were three wooden cups beside it—one the size of a thimble, one about the size of a teacup, and one as big as a huge forty-two ounce Slurpee cup from the 7-Eleven back home.
Penny chose the largest cup, since she was obviously making a giant batch of dough. The seeds were a brilliant, iridescent pink and shimmered prettily as she poured them into her mixture.
She poured the third bucket of water in as well and was glad to see that her flour was finally getting hydrated. However, it soon became apparent that it was too hydrated.
As Penny stirred with the wooden oar, she saw that, rather than a cohesive lump of dough, what she had was a purple soup, the consistency of Elmer’s glue. The purple glue-soup had fist-sized lumps of butter and the bright pink tinga seeds floating in it. It looked about as nasty and unappetizing and un-dough-like as it was possible for anything to look.
“Crap—I need more flour,” Penny muttered to herself. She was just positioning another heavy sack of the dark blue svetty flour over the bowl when someone shouted in her ear.
“Shining Star above, what have you done?”
Turning guiltily around, Penny saw May’bell and the woman she’d asked about the location of the seeds standing there.
“I told you she was making a mess, May’bell,” the woman said, frowning at Penny. “I saw her—she used enough tinga seeds for eight batches of dough! And here she’s only making one.”
“She ‘ent making anything but a mess as far as I can see,” May’bell seethed. She pointed to the gluey purple soup with the lumps of bright green butter and the many bright pink seeds floating in it. “This ain’t dough! What did you do to it?” she demanded, glaring at Penny.
“Just…just followed the recipe you told me,” Penny faltered, feeling her stomach fist into a knot. “I think I just need a little more flour—”
“Oh no! You ‘ent wasting any more ingredients!” May’bell declared. “How much water did you use, anyway?”
“Three buckets,” Penny admitted. “But I started with two and it wasn’t enough—the dough was all dry and crumbly!” she added hastily.
“Well, why didn’t you melt the butter afore putting it in to hydrate the flour? “ May’bell demanded. “And speaking of the flour, why is it all over the blessed place?”
“You didn’t say to melt it first,” Penny pointed out. “And I looked for something to clean up the spilled flour, but I didn’t see a broom or anything so I thought I’d finish making the dough first and then look for a way to clean up.”
“What a mess!” May’bell shook her head. “Well, maybe it can still be saved…” She dipped one finger into the purple soup and stuck it in her mouth. Then she spat into her palm and gave Penny a fresh glare. “What’s wrong with you? How much salt did you put into this glop you made?”
“Just…just two scoops, like you said,” Penny faltered. “And then half a scoop of sugar.”
“That ‘ent what I said!” May’bell bellowed, her face getting almost as purple as the dough. “I said half a scoop of salt and two scoops of sugar!”
“Well, it’s not like you wrote it down for me!” Penny flared back. There was only so much she could take and she felt she had reached her limit. “I was doing my best!”
“Well, your best is slop!” May’bell shouted.
“May’bell, maybe we could still save it if we divided it among some of the rest of us and waited for the butter to melt. We could add some more flour and work it up proper-like,” the woman who had told on Penny in the first place offered timidly. “I mean, I know Head Baker doesn’t like us to waste ingredients…”
“No, she don’t,” May’bell said shortly. She looked doubtfully at the dough again. “I s’pose it could work, as long as she’s added the right amount of yeast. But why isn’t it bubbling any if she did?” She looked at Penny. “You did add the yeast, didn’t you? Like I told you—a cake and a bit.”
Penny felt her heart sink. That had been the other ingredient—the one she’d forgotten.
How could I be so stupid as to forget the yeast of all things? she asked herself despairingly. It was, in fact, the same mistake she’d made back home when she’d attempted to make a loaf of homemade bread. Which was the reason it had come out like lead.